


No Gift to Bring

by msraven



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Backstory, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, Clint Needs a Hug, Family Feels, Feelstide 2013, Foster Care, Get Together, Happy Ending, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-25
Updated: 2013-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-03 11:31:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msraven/pseuds/msraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Coulsons welcome a ten year old Clint Barton into their home for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Little Boy Lost

**Author's Note:**

> Feelstide Prompt #67 - Kid!Fic: Clint's first Christmas at his new foster home, which just so happens to be the Coulson's residence.
> 
> Note: I have no actual knowledge of the Iowa foster system. Please forgive the limited research in that area.
> 
> Special thanks, as always, to kultiras for being an awesome beta.

The last thing that Phil needs as he starts his senior year of high school, is to have some random foster kid move into their house, which is what he tells his mom when she breaks the news. 

"And he'll probably just steal from us and run away," Phil adds.

The corners of his mom's mouth turn down in disapproval, but it's not quite her disappointed frown, so Phil figures that she may have thought the same thing.

"It's only for a few months until they fix the fire damage," his mom tells him.

"Great. We could have a potential arsonist living under our roof."

"I didn't realize I raised you to automatically think the worst of people," she says, and her disappointed frown makes an appearance. 

His mom hands Phil a newspaper clipping and he starts to skim it, eyes widening as he goes. 

"The kid seriously ran into a burning building to rescue another orphan?"

There are two pictures included in the article. One is of the kid, Clint, running out of the building with a little girl clutched tightly in his arms and then another of them in the back of an ambulance with a paramedic tending to a burn on Clint's arm while the girl lay curled against his side, both of them wearing oxygen masks. Clint's discomfort is written clearly on his face in the second picture and Phil has a feeling that the only thing keeping the kid in the ambulance, despite his injuries, is the girl clinging on to him like a lifeline. 

Phil's mother nods and takes back the clipping. "According to Becky, Clint has taken it upon himself to keep watch over the younger kids. He was the only one who knew little Shelly would hide in the closet and not come out for the firemen. Becky wants us to take Clint because all of the attention from the press is scaring him. She thought getting him out of Iowa would help."

Becky is his mom's best friend, Phil's godmother, and the director of the orphanage that caught fire about a week ago. This is the first time Becky has asked them to take in one of her kids. She knows that Phil's family is doing okay, but are from well off. Phil's mom has a few medical issues that keep her from working full time and his dad's job at the bank doesn't pay that great. Phil works part-time at a local grocery store, but his parents insist that his schoolwork takes priority over earning a little extra money for the family. With Phil starting college soon, they don't have the extra funds to deal with another kid. 

"We'll be getting a stipend since we're technically fostering him," Phil's mom says as if she had read Phil's mind. "It's not much, but we can get by for a few months."

"I'll see if I can get some extra hours at the store after school." 

His mom beams happily and Phil stands to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. He really hopes that the kid doesn't turn out to be a terror instead of the sweet, brave boy his mother thinks he'll be.

~^~

Clint, when he shows up, seems intent on going completely unnoticed. The kid is almost creepily quiet and only speaks, his voice barely above a whisper, to Phil's mom. He makes his bed every morning, keeps his room clean, eats his vegetables without being told, and always helps with the dishes. Clint would be the perfect kid except for the fact that he doesn't act like a kid at all – he doesn't smile or laugh or play or do anything a regular ten year old should love to do. No amount of cajoling had gotten Clint to go out trick-or-treating on Halloween.

Phil and his parents are concerned, but unsure what, if anything, they can do to pull Clint out of his shell. It feels like they're balanced on a knife's edge – one wrong move and the kid will retreat even further away. None of them are willing to take the risk and push Clint harder than they already are.

It's been about a month since Clint came to live with them and Phil comes home from his shift at the grocery store to the sound of breaking glass. He goes into the kitchen to investigate and finds Clint backed against the cupboards shaking in fear. Phil's dad is crouched in front of Clint, his hands held out, palms up. There is orange juice and broken glass all over the floor. 

"I'm not going to hit you, Clint," Phil's dad says soothingly. "It was an accident. If anything, it was my fault. I shouldn't have startled you. Nobody here is going to hurt you, I promise."

"But I broke the glass. I... I deserve–"

"No you don't. You _don't_ deserve that, Clint," Phil's dad interrupts, his voice hard. Clint flinches and Phil's dad sighs. He holds out a hand toward Clint. "You've never deserved any of what I suspect has happened in your life. We want to give you what you do deserve – a family who cares about you and a real childhood – even if it's just for a little while. Will you let us?"

Clint bites his lip uncertainly, but places his small hand in Phil's dad's larger one and lets himself be pulled into a hug. Phil hears Clint's breath hitch as he nods against his dad's shoulder before the kid starts crying in earnest. 

Not sure what else he can do, Phil steps into the kitchen and starts cleaning up the mess on the floor. Clint has stopped crying by the time Phil is done with the mess and he's standing next to Phil's dad looking sheepish and embarrassed. 

"Sorry," Clint apologizes and Phil just manages to keep from startling. It's the first words Clint has ever said directly to him. "You didn't need to clean that up for me."

Phil reaches out and toussles the kid's hair without really thinking about it. "No worries kiddo. You can make it up to me by helping me rake the leaves."

Phil's mom comes home from her hair appointment just in time to see Phil throw a squealing Clint into what had once been a neat pile of leaves. He thinks he sees tears in her eyes as Clint pops out of the leaves laughing and then throws an armful of leaves at Phil.

~^~

It gets a little easier after that. Clint is still quiet and tends to swallow his laughter, but he smiles and talks more, acts less like he's trying to hide. Phil goes out of his way to encourage Clint to be more like a kid – giving him a box of comic books to read, goading him into playing video games, and pulling him outside to play basketball in the driveway.

On Thanksgiving, Phil gets sent out to the park to bring Clint home for dinner, which is how he sees two older boys trying to beat Clint up. There is one boy holding Clint from behind while the other takes a swing. Phil has never experienced rage like he feels as he watches the kid's fist make contact with Clint's face. He grabs the boy by the back of the neck with a growl and the other boy wisely lets go of Clint and takes off running. Phil gets a good grip on the bully's shirt and brings his scared face within an inch of Phil's enraged one. 

"I know you," Phil says, his voice cold and menacing, barely recognizable even to his own ears. "If you think I won't hurt you because I'm older, you're wrong. But there are worse ways to hurt someone that doesn't involve fists. Go near Clint again you'll learn exactly what I mean."

Phil lets go of the boy's shirt with a small shove and the bully stumbles back, slipping and falling on his ass before scrambling up and running away in fear. When Phil turns to Clint, he's watching the boy run away and absently dabbing at his split lip with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Come here and let me look at your lip."

Clint walks over, but keeps his eyes averted as Phil takes a look at his face. His lip actually doesn't look too bad and they can probably come up with a good cover story to tell his mom.

"You hurt anywhere else?"

"No," Clint answers, glances at Phil, and then looks away again. "You can stop. I don't need a big brother. I still got one of those."

Phil blinks, taken aback. Becky has never mentioned Clint having any remaining family, so the brother probably isn't at the orphanage. Phil has to fight a sudden surge of new anger at the thought of Clint's brother abandoning him. He pushes the thought away and focuses on Clint, placing his hands on Clint's shoulders.

"Fair enough," Phil tells him. "We're still friends though, right? And as your friend, I'm gonna care about you and want to protect you."

"I can take care of myself," Clint retorts. "I don't need–"

Phil shakes Clint's shoulders lightly to stop the rest of his words.

"I _know_ you can take care of yourself, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't accept help when it's offered. And I'm offering. My guess is that those two weren't bullying you – bullies don't mess with kids that can fight back. They were probably trying to keep you from protecting the smaller kids. Am I right?" Clint only shrugs in response and Phil presses on. "Let's make a deal. The little kids need you. Let me protect you so that you can protect them."

Clint fully looks at Phil then, weighing the sincerity behind his words. Phil struggles to remain calm and steady under the intensity of the Clint's gaze, eyes too knowing and cautious for someone his age.

"Deal," Clint finally says and Phil grins in relief.

He slings an arm around Clint's neck and starts dragging him in the direction of the house. 

"Now here's what we're gonna tell mom…"

~^~

Phil's pretty sure his mom doesn't buy the story about a stray football hitting Clint in the face, but she doesn't call them on the lie and Clint lets her fuss over him with only a little grumbling. They both eat way too much at dinner, a childish game of one-upmanship leaving them both groaning and stumbling into the living room to collapse in front of the television. The game doesn't manage to hold Phil's interest and he's about to slip into a post-turkey nap, Clint already snoring away beside him, when his mom's voice nearly startles him into waking Clint.

"I talked to Becky this morning."

Phil checks to make sure that Clint is still asleep before looking at his mom. "And?"

"The repairs are complete at the orphanage. I asked… well... I asked several things, but the important part is that they'll let him stay with us until after Christmas."

"Why not longer?" Phil asks. "I mean, we're doing okay with the stipend and everything, right?"

Phil's mom shakes her head. "Iowa has rules about fostering kids out of state and we can't afford to keep him without the stipend."

Phil starts to say that he can get more hours at the store, but a sharp shake of his dad's head stops him. He'll explain to Phil later that the last thing his mother needs is to feel like she's choosing one child over another, but for now, Phil's dad reaches over and takes his mom's hand.

"Then we'll just have to make it a Christmas he'll always remember," he says gruffly. "Starting tonight, with pie. Hey kiddo! Wake up. It's time for dessert."

Clint blinks awake groggily, effectively cutting off further discussion. 

Phil wants to argue that he can do more to help, but he knows his persistence will only make things harder for his parents. There isn't anything he can do except help his parents make the holiday a little more special for Clint.

They start the next morning by piling into the car and driving a few hours into Michigan to where a friend of Phil's dad owns a tree farm. They let Clint pick out a tree and help cut it down, tying it to the top of the car and driving it all the way back to the house, even though there's a perfectly good artificial tree sitting in the attic. They make popcorn and cranberry garlands for the tree, Clint teasing Phil incessantly for how perfectly patterned his garland is compared to Clint's haphazard string of kernels and berries. Once the rest of the tree is decorated, Phil hefts Clint up onto his shoulders to place the star at the very top and they both pretend not to see the flash of the camera as Phil's mom happily captures the moment.

Over the next few weeks, they build gingerbread houses and snowmen, make sugar cookies in the shape of ornaments, watch old Christmas movies, and listen to Phil's dad read 'Twas the Night Before Christmas' as they drink hot chocolate by the roaring fire. They let Clint experience every tradition they have, things his family had stopped doing as Phil had gotten older. Phil watches Clint bask in all the Christmas cheer, his eyes taking on a near-constant glow of happiness at each new activity they share with him. Clint spends hours staring at the brightly lit tree, sings along to the carols constantly playing in the house, and suffers sore fingertips as he stitches his own name crookedly on his stocking to match everyone else's hanging by the fireplace. Intent on creating a special experience for Clint, the whole family immerses itself in the spirit of the season, celebrating every day before Christmas with more joy and laughter than they have in prior years. 

They force themselves not to go overboard on presents for Clint, no matter how much they want to. It's unlikely he'll be able to keep much with him at the orphanage and they don't want to make him a target for jealousy among the other kids. They fill his stocking full of candy – plenty enough to share with others or to hoard for later. Phil's parents get him a nice winter coat and jeans a size too big that they hope he won't grow out of too fast. Phil gets Clint a Captain America t-shirt and box filled with his old comic books, favorites that he hadn't read in years until he'd shared them with Clint.

Clint looks overwhelmed at all of the gifts, staring at them all with an awe that leaves Phil's mom fighting tears and Phil wanting to punch a hole through the nearest wall. Phil's dad throws his new coat at Clint to break the sudden tension, a heavy-handed hint for the boys to enjoy one last day together in the snow. Clint and Phil end up in a snowball fight with the kids across the street, their victory ensured by Phil's efficient snowball making skills and Clint's uncanny aim. By the time they come inside, they're both cold and wet, but happy. Their somber mood replaced by laughter as they enjoy the last hours of Christmas.

That night, Phil sneaks into Clint's room with one last present. Clint's brow furrows as he accepts the gift before his eyes go wide when he sees what's inside.

"From Santa," Phil tells him.

Clint raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Santa gave me a switchblade?"

"He doesn't actually want you to use it," Phil reasons, "but he wants you to feel safe and trusts that you'll only use it if absolutely necessary. Keep it hidden."

"Yeah… uh… I… thanks. I mean, tell Santa I said thanks."

Phil gives into the impulse and pulls Clint into a hug. "I'm gonna miss you, kid."

"Yeah, me too," Clint mumbles into Phil's shoulder. "If it means anything, you would have made a much better big brother than the one I already have."

Becky arrives early the next morning to pick Clint up for the trip back to Iowa. They cling to Clint for as long as they can, but they can't prolong the inevitable and they eventually have to let Clint go.


	2. Little Boy Found

_**Twenty years later…** _

Never finding Clint, despite the SHIELD resources at his disposal, is at the top of a very short list of regrets Phil has as he prepares himself for what he fears is certain death.

Phil had come home two weeks after Christmas to find papers strewn all over the dining room table and his parents poring over all of their finances. Phil told them he'd talked to an Army recruiter and had been thinking about enlisting for a while now. It was only a small lie – he'd only talked to the recruiter a day beforehand – but his parents only asked if he was sure before they picked up the phone to call Becky. Their joy had been short-lived. Clint's brother had appeared at the orphanage a few days before the New Year. They never heard from Clint again.

Phil pushes away the memory and takes stock of his current situation, trying in vain not to think that his parents will now know what it's like to lose two sons. He has six bullets left, a gunshot wound to his thigh, and no radio. The rest of his team gone, likely dead, and there are at least eight mafia henchmen, with no shortage of ammunition, waiting for Phil to come out of hiding. He takes a deep breath, sends up a few silent prayers, and prepares to stand.

"Jesus, Coulson, don't fucking stand up."

The unexpected voice and its proximity slows Phil's reaction time enough that his gun is pulled from his grip before he can react. He knows well enough not to shout out in alarm and then there's a hand on Phil's shoulder, pressing down with enough force to keep him on the ground.

"Friendly, I swear," the voice tells him. Phil can only see the vague outline of the other man in the darkness. The pressure on his shoulder eases and Phil doesn't move – if the guy wanted him dead, he could have done it before Phil even knew he was there. 

"I saw you get hit in the leg. Do you need something for that?"

"No," Phil answers, running through possibilities of who this guy may be and coming up blank. They have no undercover agents with this faction of the mafia. "Already have a tourniquet on it."

"Good. I kinda suck at field dressings. Can you walk on your own if I draw them away?" Phil nods before he remembers the darkness surrounding them and is surprised that his mystery rescuer can see the movement. "Awesome. I've got two of your men in the room at the end of the hallway. They're not doing great, but they're alive. One of them has a radio. It's coded though, so I can't use it, but I figure you can. You ready to move?"

Phil nods again and grits his teeth as the guy helps him stand, putting most of his weight on his good leg. The Good Samaritan gives him back his gun and Phil relaxes with its familiar weight back in his hand. He has several dozen questions he wants to ask, but settles for a simple, "Why?"

"Well for one, these guys don't know how to listen. I specifically said that I don't take out cops or Feds or whatever the hell agency you're with."

"SHIELD."

The guy snorts. "Shoulda figured that. Anyway, there's actually a bunch more reasons, but lets just say I know how to repay my debts."

"What are you..." Phil's thoughts derail when they get to the door and, while the hallway is only dimly lit, he can see that his rescuer is holding a bow in the hand not helping keep Phil upright. "You're Hawkeye."

"At your service."

Phil's hand tightens on his gun as the magnitude of his situation sinks in. Hawkeye – mercenary, vigilante, assassin – is on the top five most wanted lists of several agencies, including SHIELD. Nobody has ever gotten close enough to catch a glimpse of Hawkeye, let alone be clinging to his arm like Phil currently is. Bringing in the infamous Hawkeye would be a huge notch on Phil's belt and cement SHIELD's place at the top of all the other agencies, foreign and domestic.

The bottom half of Hawkeye's face is hidden by a half-mask, his eyes obscured by wrap-around glasses, but Phil can detect his amused smirk as he cocks his head to one side and waits for Phil to finish struggling with his dilemma. Despite his reputation for ruthlessness, Hawkeye has saved two of Phil's men and is in the process of ensuring their safe extraction from a hostile force bent on killing them all. Phil somehow knows that Hawkeye won't harm him and he could shoot the mercenary, but then where would that leave him? There is no way that Phil can hold his own against the remaining mafia henchmen with a bad leg, two injured agents, and an injured prisoner. 

Phil lets go of Hawkeye's arm, shifting his weight to lean against the wall. Hawkeye makes sure that Phil is mostly steady on his feet before taking a step back and giving him a small nod of acknowledgement. He turns his back to Phil – a sign of trust that isn't lost on the SHIELD agent – and starts to silently make his way down the hallway. 

Hawkeye is several steps away when Phil is compelled to ask again, "Why?"

"Does it matter?" The mercenary asks back. "You have your men to think about. Just… let me protect you so that you can protect them."

Phil's gasp reverberates in the hallway and he momentarily forgets his injury, nearly crashing to the floor when he puts weight on his bad leg. By the time he regains his footing and looks back up, Clint is gone.

~^~

"You made the right call, Phil," Fury tells him several days later. "You got your men out and the information we were after. We didn't even know Hawkeye was there. Nobody blames you for not bringing him in."

Phil wants to laugh at how far away from the truth the Director actually is. "How much do we know about Hawkeye?" he asks instead.

"Not much," Fury shrugs. "Most of it is rumor and hearsay aside from his known kills – the arrows make for a pretty distinct calling card. Several sources say he learned his skill with a bow in the circus and there are a few rumors that he washed out of the military at some point. From there on, it's a lot of legend and horror stories."

"I need to ask a favor."

"You want to bring him in and recruit him. You gonna tell me why?"

"Because I know him." Fury's eyebrows go up and Phil amends his statement. "I knew him. Back when we were still kids. It's been over two decades… but Nick, what he did and what he said – I _know_ that brave little kid is still in there. We're talking about a kid who saved a little girl from a burning building when he was ten and protected other kids from bullies. His life was pretty horrible before he came to live with my family and I have a feeling it didn't get any better after he left. I'd like to give him a chance at a better life since I couldn't do it the first time around."

"What if there's nothing left of that kid you knew? Beaten out of him by years of being on the run and working with the scum of the underworld?"

Phil meets his friend's eye confidently. "If that were true, you'd be dealing with three dead agents instead of a good friend, a good agent, asking for a favor."

"Okay."

"Okay? That's it?"

"You don't want to believe that I was swayed by the compelling case you just made?" Fury smirks and leans back in his chair when Phil narrows his eyes at him. "You know I don't usually subscribe to rumors, but the military one I mentioned is a good one. If it's true, Hawkeye kept his CO from killing a bunch of innocent civilians, who retaliated by leaving Hawkeye and the rest of his unit in the middle of hostile territory with no extraction plan. They somehow got out alive and Hawkeye rabbitted to keep his CO from doing anything else."

"And the CO?" Phil asks through clenched teeth.

"Dishonorable discharge a few years later. Don't bother looking him up," Fury advises. "Last I looked, he was living out his life in miserable mediocrity. He's not worth your attention. Let him stew."

"He deserves to answer for his actions."

"Maybe, but maybe Hawkeye should have looked for other alternatives besides going AWOL," Fury points out. "Then again, I can't really blame him considering the shit-storm his life had been prior to that. Bottom line is that I agree with you. Kid deserves a break and if SHIELD gets the best marksman on record in the bargain, who am I to complain?"

"You're all heart, Nick."

~^~

Phil starts looking for Clint in earnest, hitting up every contact and informant for news of Hawkeye. All of his leads go nowhere and Phil is ready to scream in frustration when, three months after the botched mission, he orders a pizza and finds a pair of familiar looking eyes peering back at him through the peephole.

"Clint," Phil says as he opens the door.

"Your pizza delivery guy is way too trusting," Clint responds. "And I hear you've been looking for me."

Being face to face with an adult Clint Barton proves to be an assault to Phil's senses. Gone is the scrawny kid that used to barely take up any space on the couch. In his place is a gorgeous man that is now Phil's height with broad shoulders and muscular arms that are barely contained by his worn t-shirt.

"Your pizza's getting cold."

"What? Oh! Sorry," Phil stammers and steps aside to let Clint enter the apartment. "Please, come in."

"You know this is like vampires, right? You can't kill an assassin if you invite them into your home?"

"I'm not going to try and kill you, Clint."

Phil motions Clint towards the living room while he detours into the kitchen for some plates and napkins. He thinks about grabbing a few beers, but decides against it and brings bottled water with him instead.

"I kinda figured you weren't gonna off me," Clint says after a few minutes of silence. "Based on the messages you've been leaving with my contacts. Did your team make it out okay? The one bald guy looked pretty bad."

"We all made it out alive, thanks to you. Agent Sitwell will be fine after a few months of physio – you've earned quite a fan there, by the way."

Clint shrugs and takes another bite of his pizza, as if saving lives and risking the wrath of his employers were not worthy of praise.

"How much of the rumors are true?" Phil asks.

"Depends on the rumor, but the circus bit? Yeah, that's true. Barney knew someone at Carson's, which is why he came to get me. The circus was good, stable… for a while anyway."

Phil has a feeling there's a much bigger story there, but chooses not to press it. "And the Army?" he asks instead.

"Like I said, depends on the rumor," Clint responds stiffly.

"My parents tried to come for you, too," Phil says softly. "But you were gone by the time they figured out how to keep you."

Clint startles and gapes at Phil, a myriad of emotions flitting over his face – shock, joy, sadness, regret – before a mask slides in place and he looks away. "They were good people, your folks."

A heavy silence falls that Phil doesn't know how to break. This may be his one and only chance to speak with Clint, to convince him to join SHIELD, and Phil suddenly feels inadequate for such a monumental undertaking.

"So what did you need?" Clint asks after the quiet goes on for too long. "SHIELD need someone taken out? Didn't think you guys hired external for that kind of thing."

"We don't," Phil confirms and takes a deep breath. "The Director has given me the go ahead to recruit you into SHIELD."

Clint's eyes go wide and then he scowls. "Is this a guilt thing? You feel bad that you didn't rescue the poor orphan, so you talk your boss into taking in a charity case?"

"No. This about you saving the lives of three SHIELD field agents and the Director wanting the best marksman alive on our roster. You're not a charity case, Clint. Far from it."

Clint's eyes bore into Phil's and he flashes back to a park from twenty years ago, struggling to earn the trust of a little boy whose eyes are one of the only things Phil still recognizes in the man before him.

"Nat thinks I'm an idiot for even coming here," Clint says. "She's watched my back more often than I can count and she doesn't trust you."

Phil leans forward and lets a note of pleading enter his voice. "You have every reason to be wary. I don't know her and she has no reason to trust me. I hope you do. Give SHIELD, give _me_ a chance and I promise I won't fail you."

Clint nods and Phil hopes to God he's up to the task.

~^~

Integrating Hawkeye into SHIELD is a very rough road. It tries the very limits of Phil's patience, much to Fury's constant amusement. Clint is stunningly intelligent with a mind capable of complex, strategic thinking, but he's had no formal education since leaving the orphanage and limited experience with regimented training. While Clint seems to trust Phil inherently, his issues with authority run deep for very valid reasons. Clint doesn't know how to work within an organization like SHIELD and SHIELD has never encountered anyone like Hawkeye before. Both sides eventually learn to give a little and it all proves worth it when Clint becomes, not just an amazing asset, but one of SHIELD's top agents.

Phil learns early on not to believe he knows the man because he once knew the boy. Clint has replaced his quiet demeanor with a cocky brashness that grates as often as it charms. He is still brave to a fault – a lifetime of experience doing nothing to dampen his tendency for self-sacrifice. Clint is hilarious, though often at inopportune moments, and his unshaken core of goodness centers Phil, instilling in him a trust and faith he has never experienced before. In the privacy of his own mind, Phil selfishly excuses every moment of strife in Clint's life, because he would trade nothing for the man Clint is now.

Years pass and it's not until Clint brings in Nat, the Black Widow, into SHIELD that Phil knows that they've fully earned Clint's trust and that he's here to stay. It's only then that Phil deems it safe to broach the subject of his parents.

"Christmas is coming up in a few weeks," Phil says casually.

Clint doesn't bother looking up from where he's reading a book while sprawled out on the couch in Phil's office. "Guess that explains all the turkey and stuffing in the commissary last week."

"I've asked for some time off and I was hoping you'd come home with me, to Chicago."

Clint's book makes a loud thud as it hits the floor and Phil just manages to round his desk ahead of Clint to block him at the door.

"Mom still hangs your stocking every year. They would love to see you."

"You've told them?" Clint growls, face contorted in anger.

"No. I wouldn't do that," Phil assures him. "Not without asking you first, but I thought…"

Clint growls again and spins, stalking toward Phil's desk before turning to face him. The anger is gone, replaced with an anguish that tightens a vice around Phil's heart.

"They can't – I'm not – I don't want them to know what I've become. Let them keep the memory of that little boy without tainting it with who I am now."

Phil frowns in confusion and takes a step forward. "What you've become? There's nothing wrong with who you are, Clint."

"I've _killed_ people! I have more blood on my hands and red in my ledger than can ever be forgiven."

"You've never taken out anyone that didn't deserve it, before and after SHIELD. And do you think my hands are clean? Do you think my parents love me any less because of it?"

Clint waves his hand dismissively. "That's different."

"Why? Because I've done it for a paycheck while you've done it to survive?" Phil continues forward until he's crowded Clint against the desk, putting as much force and command into his voice as he can. "You are a good man, Clint Barton. I will not allow anyone, including you, to say different. Do you understand?"

Clint nods and the charged tension between shifts into something else, something that's been simmering between them for quite some time. Clint's pupils are blown wide and they're both breathing heavily. Phil licks his lips and watches as Clint's eyes track the movement.

Clint meets his eyes again and leans a fraction closer. "Still not looking for another brother."

"Good," Phil says and closes the last bit of distance between them.

~^~

Phil has imagined on numerous occasions what it would be like to bring Clint home. In none of those instances did Phil imagine walking to the front door with bites and bruises from their exuberant lovemaking hidden under his clothes or giving Clint a small kiss of encouragement before knocking on the door.

Phil's mom answers, ready to admonish Phil for knocking like a visitor, and freezes when she sees Clint. Clint bites his lip nervously and ducks his head, suddenly looking every bit like the ten year old boy he'd once been.

"Merry Christmas Mrs. Coulson."

Phil's mom bursts into tears as she pulls Clint into her arms, instantly recognizing the man like any mother would. Phil's dad comes around the corner to see what all the commotion is and stops with a strangled gasp. Phil worries for a second whether the surprise is too much for his dad's aging heart, but then he steps forward with a tremulous smile to run a hand over Clint's hair before wrapping them both in his arms. Phil happily lets himself get pulled into the embrace and they all cling to one another on the front step, none of them willing to let go. It finally feels like Christmas again.

~^~ _fin_ ~^~

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Little Drummer Boy"
> 
>   _Little baby... Pa rum pum pum pum_  
>  _I am a poor boy too... Pa rum pum pum pum_  
>  _I have no gift to bring... Pa rum pum pum pum_  
>  _That's fit to give our King... Pa rum pum pum pum,_  
>  _rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum_  
>  _Shall I play for you... Pa rum pum pum pum_  
>  _On my drum_


End file.
